


I'm yours

by Areiton



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Future Fic, M/M, POV Second Person, POV Tony Stark, Pining, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: “Hey, kid, how you holding up?” you ask, bumping his shoulder. Peter leans into you, and it aches.You don’t get to keep this, don’t get to keep him.Tony Stark Bingo Fill: T4: Marriage





	I'm yours

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my Tony Stark Bingo Card (T4: Marriage)! It's the first so fingers crossed I'll get a bunch more up for y'all!

You stand near him, and wish you were anywhere else. But you aren’t. You’re here, present, because as much as this digs in your gut like razors, you would never miss it. 

Peter smiles at you, and for a moment you see him, wide eyed and breathless in his aunt's kitchen, teary stained and defiant after the ferry, laughing and saying  _ no _ to your offer, so goddamn young it makes your chest  _ ache.  _

“Tony,” he says, shaky and breathless and you smile for him. 

“Hey, kid, how you holding up?” you ask, bumping his shoulder. Peter leans into you, and it aches. 

You don’t get to keep this, don’t get to keep him. 

“You ready?” you ask, and he gives you a weak smile. Holds still for you to fix his tie. 

“You like him, right?” he asks. 

He’s never asked that. Not when you first met Johnny, not when they moved in together, not when they fought or when they fixed things, or when Johnny proposed. 

He’s always come to you, though. 

You used to think it was because you were his mentor, and then because you were his boss. But somewhere along the way, between his masters and taking over the biochemical department of SI, you realized--Peter didn’t come to you because he needed you. He came because he wanted to. 

Through everything--no matter how good or bad things with Johnny got--he always ended up on your couch, sleepy eyed, rambling or quiet, there. 

And he has never asked you this. 

You take a breath, and think of May and Pepper, the quiet pity and saddness in their eyes as they watched you in the car on the drive over. 

“He deserves to know,” Pepper said, the same thing she’s been telling you for years. May though--May touched your hand and drew your gaze to her. 

“You deserve to know,” she says. “Before it’s done, and he’s gone--you deserve to know if there’s a chance.” 

“He loves Johnny,” you said, a feeble protest. 

He does. You know he does. 

“Tell him,” May murmured, and then she slipped out of the car, her fingers twisting into Pepper’s and you realize--that doesn’t hurt. 

Not the way it did, at first. 

You stand in front of him now, and you’re supposed to walk down and stand next to him in front of all of his friends and family, and half the superhero community, and he’s staring at you with big hopeful eyes, asking what he’s never asked. 

“Why ask me that now?” you ask instead of answering, and Peter’s hands close on your wrists. Hold you there when you would step back. 

“I’m marrying him in an hour,” he says, and his voice is edged with desperation. “And I need to know that we’ll be ok. That you’re going to still be there.” 

“Kid,” you breath, and shake him, a little. “I’m not going anywhere. Not ever. I’m yours, Peter, for life.” 

Peter goes still beneath your hands, and his eyes are wide, his breath high and fast. “Do--do you mean that?” 

_ He deserves to know.  _

“Yeah, Pete. I mean it.” 

~*~ 

He doesn’t kiss you. 

That sits like a weight in your gut. He looked, for a moment, in that room, with nothing but everything between you, that he was going to kiss you. 

But he hadn’t, he’d pulled away and murmured about Johnny and you let him go. 

He doesn’t kiss you. 

But he doesn’t kiss Johnny either, and the wedding is quietly cancelled.

When you step into your penthouse, he’s sitting on your couch, and his eyes are fixed on you, waiting, patient and hopeful and you sigh as he settles in your arms, his head resting on your shoulder. 

You don’t say anything. 

Neither does he. 

You think, though, that the silence is ok. There’s time now, to find the words to say, to find out what they mean and what you both want. 

The truth is quiet, lingering between you, and it’s enough. 

 


End file.
